Aftermath
by FurryLittleProblems
Summary: Dust encrusted rubble clutters most of the castle, blocking passageways and windows, blocking, for a while, some of the damage.   Set just after the Battle of Hogwarts


Dust encrusted rubble clutters most of the castle, blocking passageways and windows, blocking, for a while, some of the damage. A thick layer of debris lines the floors, crunching loudly with every careful step. Most people are a little afraid to separate from the group: afraid of what they might find.

Some have gone home of course. Some have returned to Hogsmede, or apperated, or flown out of town to deliver the news, to check on family. The rest are currently split between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff common rooms, though no one is sorted according to house anymore. There are people from all four in both commons: slouched against walls with their heads resting on friends laps, stood in corners talking quietly, or else sleeping in one of the dormitories. Of course, there are teachers and adults mixed in amongst the students now: a force united. And, despite the seeming absence of threat, nobody really wants to break that bond just yet. They want to be together. Ravenclaw tower is in ruins, and the Slytherins who stayed to fight are no longer separated by the name of their house.

Few people actually sleep. To most, it seems impossible. Even those whose families have been left intact are plagued by the memories of the night: imprinted into their brains, feeding images of death: of pain and grief and destruction into their consciousness. Some sit rigidly in chairs, simply staring into space. Some seem unable to keep still, walking back and forth, driven by the invisible energy of adrenalin still pumping fiercely through their veins. Others sit openly and cry into comforting shoulders, or don't notice the tears at all until they feel the hot drops of water fall down their scared cheeks.

Yet the mood is calm. They are jubilant, yet devastated; unsure of whether to jump for joy or break down. Most want to find the boy who they watched bring about this new beginning, the dawn of an era where their lives will no longer be overshadowed by dark forces. Harry though, is one of the few who is, at least for now, sleeping. He and the Weasleys retreated to a dormitory hours ago. Only George and Percy remained, red eyed and lost. They are a perfect example of those who simply sit, staring into space, dragged into their own thoughts. They seem unable to comfort one another, despite the occasional sideways glance. There's something missing; something that neither can fix for now.

A few turn their heads when the clock strikes from the courtyard, marveling at its durability. None move though. They are already all too aware of time. It's been carelessly ticking by for hours now. Hours since the fighting cease and the dust began to settle. Only hours until they will have to face the damage, the reality, the court cases and newspapers… the funerals of their family and friends. Mere hours until people will start to forget the sacrifices they made.

The dead have been left where they rest, unseeing beneath the star dotted ceiling of the great hall. Now and then, some brave soul will tred the ground between there and the common rooms, eyes travelling over the bodies they had once known so well. They won't stay long though; it seems almost indecent to look - as if they're intruding on something sacred: on the final moments that those who gave up their lives will ever have in the place they knew so well. Perhaps this was where they met their best friends, or fell in love. Maybe they always sat on the furthest bench from the professors, or glanced longingly towards someone they'd never build up the courage to approach. This was where they made their first mistakes and lived out childhood dreams.

Maybe they'd think it an honour to die here...

The memories resonate within the room, almost tangible to those who really look. There will surely be statues, and memorials - physical representations of those who fell during this final battle. But to those who make the trip down to the great hall that night, to the friends and families who lay beside their loved ones and hold their hands: this is how they will be remembered - sleeping: forever lost in memories beneath that familiar night sky.


End file.
